Negotiations
by Misya
Summary: The token fic that involves Rorschach and a bathtub. Dan/Rorschach. HARD M, mature only. Written 21/02/09.


Daniel reached in to the fridge to take out a carton of milk, then froze.

He sniffed.

_Jesus christ._

Something smelled terrible.

Gingerly, he stuck his head inside the fridge, and sniffed again. Perhaps the milk had gone off. But no; it was still fresh. He closed the fridge door, and the smell remained. Maybe a mouse had died somewhere, although the odour didn't quite have that 'rotting flesh' feel to it. It smelled more like... Jesus, he couldn't even describe it, it was that bad. He searched behind the cabinets, then checked the soles of his feet to make sure that he hadn't stepped in anything.

A pang of irrational paranoia hit him. God, what if the smell was him? What if he stunk, and people were too polite to mention it? He checked himself, but only detected the scent of soap and toothpaste.

Daniel wandered around, revolted and intrigued. The smell seemed to get worse as he neared the bedroom

It was then that he noticed the wet footprints on the floor, leading inside, and dreadful realisation dawned on him.

He pushed the bedroom door open to find Rorschach sitting on the edge of the mattress, soaking wet and smelling like death. Rorschach was in the process of removing the dirty outer layers of his clothing; his trenchcoat had been left on the floor, like a grubby rag, while his mask had been folded up neatly and placed on a pillow, to be hidden away later.

Daniel wanted to yell at him to _get off the bed_, but yelling at Rorschach didn't always achieve much. "...Have you been down a sewer again?" he asked, already knowing the answer to that.

"Some routes safer underground." Rorschach stripped down to his vest and boxers, then reached under the mattress, where he kept a set of spare clothes. Daniel was horrified to see that he was going to put them on over his dirty undergarments.

"Rorschach..."

"What."

"Aren't you going to take a shower?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Don't need one."

Daniel searched for a diplomatic way to phrase it. There wasn't one. "You stink."

Rorschach gave him one of those dull, disinterested looks. "Smell is temporary. Body is self-cleaning. Humans are not as susceptible to infection as the medical-pharmaceutical complex would like people to believe. Chemicals in cleaning products kill bacteria necessary to building up a resistance, leading to weakening of immune system."

"Yes, that's great, but... would you please take a shower?" Daniel asked.

"No." Rorschach paused, then continued pulling up his pants.

"I don't want to smell someone who's been down a sewer. Would you take a shower for my benefit, at least?"

"Do not appreciate emotional blackmail, Daniel."

Daniel's patience expired. "Rorschach, not only do you smell like a god damn asshole, but you're acting like one, too," he said. His brain didn't get the chance to intercept the words before they reached his mouth. "Take a shower or-..."_ Or what? Or you're going to sleep on the couch tonight?_

The two of them eyed each other for a few seconds, weighing each other up... And then Rorschach's eyes narrowed by a small fraction, and he stood up, and stalked off to the bathroom.

"Going to wash my face," he said, as if he was doing Daniel a massive favor and, by god, he had better remember it.

Well, that was better than nothing. Daniel hung around for a bit, to check that Rorschach had meant his real face, not... the other one. No, the mask was still there on the pillow, staring up at Daniel with an expression like a pair of crows crashing in to each other. He picked up the mask, grimacing slightly when it changed under the pressure of his fingers, and flipped it over so that it was face down. With that done, he quietly followed after Rorschach.

Daniel went over the bathroom's layout in his mind. There was a sink, and next to the sink, there was a large, old footed bath with a shower head fitted. The sink was just opposite the door, so Rorschach would have his back to the hallway. The only problem was the medicine cabinet above the sink - there was the risk that Rorschach might see Daniel's reflection in it, although he suspected that he might be able to avoid that if he kept low enough.

Daniel considered the risks, and decided that they were acceptable. Besides, what was the worst that Rorschach could do?

...Daniel decided not to answer that.

Oh well. You couldn't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. Or ribs, possibly, in Daniel's case. He loitered in the hallway, mentally preparing himself, until he was sure that the sound of running tap water would cover his approach.

Then he ran full-tilt at Rorschach and shoved him in to the bath.

This was a bad idea. It was a terrible, awful, stupid idea. Because Rorschach's brain interpreted it as an attack.

Rorschach instinctively cracked Daniel on the jaw.

Little green lights flashed in front of Daniel's eyes, and the world went darker for a second. Somehow, the two of them tripped and landed in the bath tub - it was a small miracle that neither of them cracked their head on the wall in the process - and fortunately Rorschach realised what was happening before he had the chance to sock Daniel in the face again.

"Nnngh goddd, owwww." Daniel clutched at his jaw, and waited for his ears to stop ringing. He'd fallen on Rorschach, who was staring at Daniel as if he was the crazy one.

"Daniel. Daniel?" Rorschach whispered.

Daniel took advantage of Rorschach's disorientation and turned the shower on.

The water was cold. Rorschach tried to fight his way out, and it took some effort on Daniel's part to keep hold of him; pinning Rorschach down was a difficult thing to do at the best of times. From the way Rorschach reacted, an observer might have thought that Daniel was attempting to drown him. In many ways, trying to get Rorschach to stay in the bathtub was like attempting to bathe a large, vicious dog, albeit a large, vicious dog that muttered about Zionist machinations and sometimes killed people. They flailed around, a mad tangle of arms, legs, and swearing, and it was so silly that Daniel cracked up laughing. (Naturally, Rorschach failed to see the funny side of it. If Rorschach did have a sense of humour, it was likely a very dry one, and did not survive contact with water.)

After three minutes of bathtub wrestling, they both seemed to realise how silly they looked, and stopped. Carefully, they stood, and helped each other up.

Daniel straightened his glasses, but still kept a firm grip on Rorschach's arm. "What is your problem?"

"Fluoride in the water supply. Jewish conspiracy."

Daniel tried to figure out if Rorschach meant that, or if it was a veiled insult, or... what. He didn't rise to it. "Well, you're soaking wet. You might as well take a shower now."

Rorschach had something of a 'fight or flee' expression, but he just stood there and watched Daniel hawkishly. Daniel risked picking up a nearby bar of soap with his free hand.

Rorschach grabbed his wrist, keeping the soap away from him.

"...What?" What the hell, what was it _now_? Daniel fought to free his arm. He couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Rorschach, terror of the underworld, vs. his arch nemesis: soap.

"Smells like women's perfume. Too homosexual."

"_It's just soap!_" For a moment, Daniel thought that Rorschach was going to hit him again. He wasn't going to back off, though - not when they were fighting over something as ridiculous as a goddamn shower. Daniel had reached the end of his tether: he'd got used to tolerating the _normal _old-garbage-and-unwashed-vigilante Rorschach smell, but damned if he was going to sleep next to someone who'd been down a sewer.

They grappled ineffectually, both of them unwilling to end things by giving up or resorting to violence. Daniel had seen the pain compliance holds that Rorschach used on people, and he knew that his partner was going easy on him. "The smell will wash off," he said, through gritted teeth. "Look, I'll never ask you to take a shower again, alright?"

Rorschach didn't appear to believe him in the least. He fixed Daniel with a dark stare. "You are the most irritating, obstinate man that I have ever met," he said, with the sort of vehemence that he usually reserved for complaining about politicians.

Daniel tried to say something, but found that he didn't have the words.

Then, to his surprise, Rorschach let go of his wrist, grudgingly took the soap, and ran it distastefully over his arms.

Daniel watched him; he watched him very carefully. When he thought it was safe, he sat on the edge of the bathtub, and turned up the temperature on the shower. It wasn't long before his glasses steamed up and he had to take them off. Daniel sighed, and figured that he might as well take off his shirt, as well - the 'wet t-shirt' look didn't work very well on paunchy 40-somethings.

"Done," Rorschach said, eventually.

Daniel squinted. "No you're not. You've only washed your arms. And you're still wearing a god damn vest and pants."

"Saves washing them separately, conserves hot water. Local laundromat is ran by drug-addled bohemians; second-nearest laundromat is ran by Mexicans. Suspect them to be illegal immigrants."

Daniel didn't even know where to start with that one. "Rorschach, just... pass me the soap back."

Rorschach fixed him with a dark stare. Daniel tried to recall if Rorschach had always been like this, and guessed that yes, he probably had been - it just hadn't been so noticeable back in the old days. He bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything that he'd regret later, and reached over to plug the bath. The more water Rorschach was in contact with, the better. "Take off your vest and sit down," he said, in his best 'I'm the goddamn Nite Owl' voice.

Rorschach obeyed - perhaps he was as tired of bickering as Daniel was - and unceremoniously threw the wet garment on the floor (it landed with a wet slap, and Daniel made a mental note to... burn it or something, later).

Daniel awkwardly sat behind him. He carefully gauged Rorschach's mood, then began to wash the other man's back.

"See, it's not so bad," said Daniel.

He couldn't see Rorschach's face, but he just knew that the guy had the sort of expression that said, 'you'd better sleep with one eye open tonight, because I have pushed people down elevator shafts for less than this'.

Admittedly, Daniel did feel just a little bit cruel. Rorschach had been through enough, without being subjected to the horrors of personal hygiene. At least Daniel had let him keep his pants on; hell, they both still had their pants on, although this made about as much sense as anything else did.

"Sorry I lost my temper with you," Daniel said, while regretting nothing.

Rorschach made one of those odd little grunts at him - like the verbal equivalent of a shrug. Even if it was a white lie, it seemed to make him feel better.

For the Nth time in his life, Daniel wondered why he put up with the guy, although he already knew the answer to that.

He considered the map of cuts and bruises on Rorschach's shoulders, and tried to figure out which ones were new. He tapped his index finger against one of the older scars.

"What's this one from?"

"Got thrown down a fire escape."

"And this one?"

"Underboss tried to drop a chandelier on me."

"I remember that." Good times. "How come nobody ever tries to drop chandeliers on us any more?"

"Guns generally more efficient."

"True." Daniel reached over to turn the shower off, and Rorschach sat back a bit; just enough for him to lean against Daniel's chest, while still maintaining plausible deniability if Daniel asked about it.

Not that Daniel _would_ ask, of course.

They sat there, together, listening to the creak of the pipes and the murmur of traffic outside. Outside, a man and a woman sounded like they were having an argument - loud enough for them to hear, not quite loud enough for them to make out the details.

For some reason, the woman's voice made Daniel think of his ex-girlfriends; of their smooth bodies, their soft hands, the way that their eyes blazed during fights.

_You sure know how to pick 'em_, Hollis had said.

Daniel had replied, _Well, it's more like they pick me._

Rorschach canted his head slightly, then grunted when the argument fell out of earshot.

Daniel wasn't quite sure at first, but he thought he felt Rorschach relax. Carefully, he rested his chin on Rorschach's shoulder, and waited to see if he would tense up again. Rorschach didn't. Instead, he turned his head, so that he could feel Daniel's face against his.

He had always been more proactive than Daniel. It was just wasn't always obvious, until Daniel had figured it out.

Daniel put his right hand on Rorschach's thigh, not quite sure whether he was doing it for Rorschach's benefit, or his own.

Lust wasn't much of an issue; well, not for Daniel, at least. Rorschach still had the faint stink of the sewers about him, which was something of a mood killer - although, in a twisted sort of way, perhaps that was a good thing, as he often reacted badly to obvious demonstrations of desire. Daniel was allowed to appear interested, but not _too_ interested.

'Allowed'. That was probably the right word for it. Daniel had the sense to remember who was in control, although he kept up his charade of playing the instigator, for Rorschach's sake.

Rorschach shifted ever so slightly and parted his legs. Daniel's hand strayed to his fly, unzipping it - normally, he had to do this part as quietly as possible, although the bath water dampened the sound - and his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of Rorschach's underpants, brushing against the rough hair.

Now Rorschach did tense up. Daniel paused. If Rorschach really didn't want him there, then he could have stopped him. Rorschach had changed his mind plenty of times before - often at the most awkward times possible - and Daniel still half expected him to climb out of the bathtub, get dressed, and wander off to find somebody to punch. Rorschach remained where he was, however; he knew what was going to happen, and he still wanted it.

Daniel's took Rorschach's cock in his hand, and steadily pumped it. He was rougher with Rorschach than he would have been with himself, although the soap on his palm reduced some of the friction of skin against skin. In some ways, pleasing Rorschach was relatively straightforward; Daniel could understand the male body, while the female form could be fascinatingly complex. _Subtle_. It was easy to be a little bit intimidated by it. Rorschach... wasn't subtle, for all his wariness and hostility. Stubborn, unforgiving, bitter, calculating; yes. But never subtle.

Rorschach's cock soon stiffened in Daniel's grasp. Daniel knew better than to try to see his face, although sometimes he'd steal quick glimpses, when he was sure that Rorschach had his eyes closed. Now wasn't the time to risk it, though, so he made do with just reading Rorschach's body language; the way that his right hand gripped the edge of the bathtub, how the tendons stood out in his arms and shoulders, the raggedness of his breath.

Perhaps, one day, Rorschach would trust him fully. Stranger things had happened.

Rorschach failed to stifle a quiet groan, and Daniel allowed himself a small smile, out of sight.

He was aware of the pleasant, throbbing warmth between his own legs, and did his best to ignore it. There would be time to deal with that later - and, whether Daniel liked it or not, his libido had always nervously taken a back seat to his brain. That was probably why Rorschach felt relatively safe with him. Not so safe, sadly, that he'd let Daniel kiss the back of his neck, or run a hand down the hard muscles of his abdomen.

Still; the first time they'd done this, Rorschach hadn't been able to talk to him for two weeks - and when he did talk to him, the first thing he did was apologise.

Daniel supposed that this was progress.

Rorschach began to thrust back against his hand, and Daniel slowed his rhythm, just to see how he'd react. He was rewarded with a small growl of protest and a sharp elbow in the ribs. Daniel almost smirked; and, in a rare moment of cruelty, paused altogether.

Rorschach did not, _did not_, turn to look at him, but Daniel risked a sideways glance and saw Rorschach's mouth move, forming a silent plea. He recognized his name on the other man's lips.

Daniel's heart broke, just a little bit.

He quickened his hand again, and felt Rorschach flinch under his touch; Daniel closed his own eyes, bowing his head slightly so that Rorschach could feel his breath tickle against his neck...

Rorschach bit back a sound that was almost painful - and, all too quickly, he came. Daniel waited for his hips to stop bucking, then let him go.

Almost immediately, Rorschach stood up, turned the shower back on again, and started to take off his pants, as if he'd just realized how silly it was to be washing with his clothes on. He still kept his back to Daniel - and Daniel was reminded that, a few minutes ago, Rorschach had been the sort of guy who complaining about homosexual soap.

Daniel would have been amused by it, if he didn't find more than a little sad.

_Shit_, he thought, _did I just give the poor guy a pity fuck?_

He dismissed the idea from his mind, as it brought up a lot of questions about their relationship that he didn't feel like answering at that particular moment. He was a good friend, right? Rorschach seemed to think so. (Although Rorschach also seemed to think that Daniel's 'good friend' status gave him carte blanche to wake him up in the middle of the night, insult him, and expect him to tidy up his mess.)

Daniel gingerly poked the spot on his jaw where Rorschach had hit him - it was as sore as hell, but a high pain tolerance was one benefits of being in his 'career' for so long - and wondered if he'd ever get an apology for it. Admittedly, it could be argued that he'd brought it on himself. If Daniel had any sense, he wouldn't have startled Rorschach. If he'd had any sense, then he probably wouldn't be associating with Rorschach in the first place.

Once, when he was six, he'd been on holiday and had pestered his mother in to taking him to a falconry display. There had been an Eurasian eagle owl there, almost as big as he was, alien and unfathomable as death, and he'd somehow succeeded in poking his hand through the wire of its cage, to try to touch it. He was lucky that he hadn't lost any fingers.

He liked to think that he'd gained a bit more prudence over the past 35 years, but when he over looked at Rorschach, he doubted it.

Daniel watched Rorschach shower, until Rorschach glanced over his shoulder and fixed him with a blank stare for it, so that Daniel glanced away in politeness. Rorschach scrubbed himself with his fists. Fluoride in the water didn't seem to be such an issue anymore.

Daniel twiddled his thumbs.

"You don't smell so bad now," he said, just to break the silence.

Rorschach gave him one of his 'whatever' grunts, as if to say, 'you may have won this battle, but you haven't won the war'.

Daniel smiled despite himself, and climbed out of the bathtub to find a clean towel. He'd change his clothes, make some coffee, and leave New York's most feared (and freshly washed) vigilante in peace for a while. Rorschach could go back to pretending that he didn't love Daniel, and Daniel was just fine with that.


End file.
